


Cataclysm

by sageclover61



Series: Paradise [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangels, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Brothers, Canon Divergent, Chuck's a+ parenting, Dean Winchester is a good big brother, Demon Blood, Dialogue Heavy, Enochian, Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Fix-It, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentions of addiction, Paralysis, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Samulet Fix-It, Tumblr Prompt, canon fix it, fixes that stupid season 4 voicemail, in the incorrect analysis of another person's thoughts, mentions of Michael - Freeform, mentions of Raphael - Freeform, mentions of addiction to demon blood, mentions of lucifer, post-episode: s05e18 Point of No Return, temporary paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15982220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageclover61/pseuds/sageclover61
Summary: It started as any other hunt, but before Sam or Dean could prevent it, Dean was paralysed on the floor barely holding for life, and Sam was incapacitated, dread allowing him to say things he had never thought he would.Gabriel should know by now that interfering always gets him in trouble. It’s his fault really, but how could he simply watch when Sam Winchester was in such turmoil? Finding father was easier than he expected, but just as useless. But he can't just stand by and do nothing, so it’s up to Sam, Dean, Castiel and perhaps himself stop the apocalypse.





	Cataclysm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UmbraeCalamitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/gifts).



> Just another prompt fill for Talkingtomyselfagain.
> 
> If I've missed any tags you would like me to include, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Beta read by ThallenCambricaltran, Hyrulehearts1123, and Nathyfaith. All remaining mistakes are mine. I'm sageclover61 on Tumblr if you want to come find me!
> 
> This takes place after Point of No Return, except Michael never showed. Adam simply disappeared.

**Part 1: Dean**

 

Sam couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and it was ominously quiet behind him. Dean couldn’t be dead, not here, not now, not after absolutely everything that was trying to break them apart. It was supposed to be Sam and Dean against the rest of the world! When had that changed? Why?

 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispered, shuddered. There was so much he’d always wanted to say, needed to say, but Dean couldn’t abide with chick flick moments. Never, not for anything, not even when the world was ending and he just needed to say something.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t ever supposed to be like this, but it’s just been one thing after another and I just wish it would stop. You can’t die, not now, not yet. I thought I lost you for good when I went to Stanford. It was never about you, not you, but Dad and his ultimatum… I had to get out, Dean, I had to go. But it wasn’t a good memory, not like Heaven made it out to be. Heaven was all  _ wrong _ , Dean, none of those were happy memories. They were turning points that made me who I am but they weren’t happy. They were tainted by the things I’d always dared to want for myself, knew I couldn’t have, didn’t deserve. You were so mad, Dean, like it was my fault.” Dean could hear Sam take a shaky inhale of breath.

 

“Your heaven was so beautiful, Dean, even Mom was in it, but I wasn’t. Not in the parts that I could see. But that didn’t bother you, did it Dean? Because you got to see Mom. You got to see Mom, and Gabriel’s right,  _ It’s my fault she’s dead,  _ because if I’d never been born, she’d still be alive.” A deep sob tore through his brother’s throat.

 

“I could barely do Christmas last year and you never even asked why I was dragging my feet. Do you even know how many Tuesdays I had? I stopped counting at a hundred, and then there was six months I spent tracking him down because it was supposed to be Wednesday but the Trickster cheated! He was trying to show me why I couldn’t let my need for revenge control my life. It got Dad killed, it got you killed. Hell, it almost ended my life too. But why should I have expected anything from a pagan? Not to be trusted, not to be believed,  _ ‘They’re monsters, Sam, all of them. If they’re not human, you kill it, got that Sam?’” _ Dean could hear a faint sound, dripping, and desperately hoped it wasn't his brothers blood hitting the ground, or his own.

 

“Am I human, Dean? Was I human then? You left a voicemail on my cell phone, you called me a vampire. You said that if you weren’t related to me, didn’t know me, that you’d hunt and kill me for the monster that I was.” Dean eyes burned with tears he could not shed, much as he imagined his brothers burned with those that did fall.

 

“Maybe that’s the reaction you should have had, I don’t know. It was always Sam and Dean against the world, but since last year, it really hasn’t been. I really do regret the demon blood, but it was an addiction, Dean, and I couldn’t control it, and I tried, but I can’t control it. You were dead and I was drowning in these emotions I didn’t know what to do with, summoning demon after demon as I tried to get you back, but it couldn’t be done and it couldn’t be done. I was so close to following you Dean, so close to breaking the Catholic’s greatest Sin, but I couldn’t do it because I was too weak, and there she was, promising that if I followed her lead, I could get the revenge I so craved. She tricked me, Dean, she did, showing me all the good I could do with my mind! It was amazing, Dean, I could exorcise demons and save the hosts before the demons could injure them, which is always the concern when we just use an exorcism. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. So she drew me into the blood, and it tasted so good, I had to have more! The more I had the stronger I felt- I could have exorcised Alistair, I killed Lilith! Lilith would die and I could have you back! But by then the first seal broke and the angels brought you back. I was so excited Dean, because you were home safe where nothing could touch you, and it was supposed to be perfect because Angels really existed.” Another sob wracked through his brothers body, and Dean could feel the faint brush of Sam's jacket against his own back.

 

“And then Angels weren’t as they seemed. Not guardians of humanity like I always believed, but soldiers of their own cause. To what purpose, Dean? Where does it end? I didn’t even get to see the beauty of heaven due to their manipulations. You got to see Mom and I got to see the ash and dust of unfulfilled regrets and you threw away the amulet that meant everything to _me._ _I gave it to you because I realized finally that Dad was never going to be what we needed,_ but you threw it away like it was nothing, like it was my fault Heaven would never accept me for for the monster that I had become, _and I’m so sorry that it’s come to this._ ” Sam sniffled, borderline hysterical. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and there was only silence except for his words, rambled into the empty.

 

“Now I’m dreaming about Lucifer. I’m not going to say yes, I promise, but I can’t make it stop. It’s like I’m going insane, but it’s all real and I just want you to stop and listen to what I have to say, but you’re so caught up on the blood and the revenge that you won’t even stop reminding me that this is all my fault. If I could have just killed Jake I wouldn’t have died, you wouldn’t have gone to Hell and then there wouldn’t be an apocalypse going on, but no, I couldn’t do it. So many of our friends are dead and how many more are going to die yet because of me?!”

 

Dean couldn't move, just listened as Sam rambled on and on about demon blood, and heaven, and issues they had not talked about at all. If he got out of this alive, he would rectify that gross negligence, and he would never say ‘No Click Flicks, Sammy,’ ever again. Well, maybe a few times. At least not seriously. But what was this about being calling Sammy a vampire? The only voicemail he’d left for Sam before he’d killed Lilith was when Zachy had let him call…. And Sam hadn’t answered. Was it possible Sam had never heard his apology? The angels had spent all year trying to drive a wedge between them. It was clear now that they were being driven towards saying yes, but they hadn’t realized the extent of the manipulations the prior year, and Heaven had been just another machination.

 

“Not a monster, Sammy,” he wanted to say, needed to say, but his body failed to respond. Wouldn’t respond. Not even the croaking of a dying hunter.

 

Sam had paused, as though listening for the response he’d expected Dean to make, but only silence answered. He choked back a sob. “Please don’t be dead, Dean, you can’t be!” His words died away, leaving Sam’s broken sobs as the only sound in the room. 

 

Dean’s heart  _ broke _ as he listened to Sam’s wails. Was this how Eurydice had felt, trailing behind Orpheus, unable to comfort him as he was left to wonder if Hades had kept his end of the bargain? He was alive, but he couldn’t tell Sam that because he was paralyzed and Sam couldn’t see him.

* * *

**Part 2: The Trickster**

An unknown presence sat in the rafters, in deep consideration. A long forgotten lollipop rested between his fingers. He had been twirling it earlier, but now the sweet held no appeal. In the other hand he held a crushed hex bag. This wasn't  _ his _ machination, he’d just been genuinely curious about what the Winchesters would get up to after leaving him in the circle of holy fire, and he’d wanted to know why they had released him. Watching them, though, he’d never in his wildest dreams considered that Sam Winchester felt this way about himself. His facial expressions during the holy fire incident had been telling, sure, but not like this.

 

What had his siblings done? Lucifer had been the one so adamant against the existence of humans, but this didn’t indicate Heaven was protecting humanity. Why had Sam Winchester been condemned just for the ill-circumstances of his birth? Even cut off from heaven, he  _ knew _ that Sam believed. He’d prayed, not for every little thing like some people, and not for himself, but for his brother and sometimes for his own forgiveness.

 

Was there anything he could do, though? He was Fourth Born, not even as powerful as Raphael, let alone Lucifer and Michael. He couldn’t see the future, but he knew if he engaged the brother he’d been closest to, he would die. Lucifer had already been insane before the cage, but how had isolation for aeons helped? Solitary confinement for a human was bad enough, but for an angel who only existed with communication to the choir? Cutting himself off had almost killed him, and he’d gone to Earth!

 

He didn’t want to return to Heaven, but would doing so prevent the destruction of humanity? He couldn’t see how it would, he’d been believed dead since the end of the battle. Dad had left before the battle started, and he’d been gone by the end. He’d mocked Castiel for looking, but what if that had been the wrong approach? He didn’t know where God was, but he did know He wasn’t dead.

 

In all likeliness, He was living among his favorite creations. He’d made it clear he liked them better, after all. Castiel had had no luck, but of course He would hide himself well. Otherwise the seraphim would have found him long ago. But he was Fourth Born. He had a little bit more power than they did.

 

But first, Sam Winchester was still wailing and Dean Winchester would kill whatever had caused Sam to feel like some part of him had died. They may not have understood exactly what it meant to be soulmates,  _ but Gabriel now understood why killing Dean over and over again to make a point would have never worked. If only he had known then exactly what he knew now. _

 

Gabriel dropped the hex bag on the ground and flew off, allowing time outside to resume. The witch would return and someone would gank her. He’d learned everything he had desired to know that they could tell him. Now, he had a prophet to integrate without invoking Raphael’s wrath. Raphael had been mistaken. Only one entity was capable of resurrecting an angel and it wasn’t Lucifer. But Raphael should have known that, so what game had the Third Born been playing that day?

 

The Empty was not an entity to negotiate with, though. So what had Dad given in exchange for Castiel? Why Castiel? Dad had upheld his policy of noninterference since giving Lucifer the mark. Why break that now, for a soldier who wasn’t even a seraph? What was so important?

 

“You always were the most curious of your siblings.”

 

Gabriel blinked, not really hearing what had been said. He finally noticed that he was standing in the prophet’s living room and hadn’t even realized it yet. The place was a mess with no sign of any celestial interference or intent. But that was a deceit.

 

The prophet stood in front of him, a neutral expression on his face as he studied the archangel. “Are you the Scandinavian investor?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “The word of God is meant to be read, is it not?” Why had this seemed like a good idea? Look at Cassandra and Apollo. No one believed her and Troy fell. He believed the prophet, but here he was, trying to change the future. Or find Dad, but that seemed unlikely.

 

“The Winchesters didn’t seem to agree with that perspective,” Chuck replied.

 

“There were some explicit scenes, and they are only human. It’s not exactly surprising they were unnerved to see their entire lives in print.”

 

“So why are you here?” Chuck asked. “No offense intended, but in my experience, angels and archangels don’t usually just ‘swing by’ for a chat, if you know what I mean.”

 

Gabriel would have liked to have been able to take offense, but the prophet wasn’t wrong. He could tell just from the way certain people talked about angels that Heaven was in a sad state of affairs.  _ How the Hell had Michael spent the last few aeons? At least one garrison was clearly acting irresponsibly. But at whose behest? _

 

The archangel opened his mouth to ask his question- Some form of determining whether or not the prophet knew where Dad was, but at the last second, he changed his mind. The prophet had made a very specific statement when he’d arrived, and while it may have worked on any of the younger angels, Gabriel actually knew how prophets functioned. They knew all about the present, and things that had happened during their lifetime. But to know the secrets of an archangel’s personality? “Dad.”

 

The house was a mess, but it only looked that way to an outward viewer. It was a facade, and now that Gabriel was really looking, he could see that. There were papers everywhere, but none of them were important in the long string of things. Everything of importance would have been saved to the computer, and who knew how the computer files were organized. No one would have looked for anything celestial here.

 

Chuck raised an eyebrow, but didn’t outright deny it. “What gave it away?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “Your quip about my personality. And your guess about my Scandinavian status. And my purpose for being here, I suppose.”

 

“What makes you think I can or will help you? You’re an adult. Your siblings are adults.”

 

“Some advice would be nice,” Gabriel muttered. “What happened to Heaven?”

 

“What makes you think I know?” He chuckled when Gabriel opened his mouth to object. “Nevermind. Those in Heaven have chosen a path without emotion. They have no love for humanity and have opted for non-interference.”

 

“And the purpose of the apocalypse?”

 

“They believe it will lead to paradise. I suppose they also believe that it will bring about my return. If they destroy mankind, they will not get what they are looking for.” His tone was that of warning, but not current anger.

 

Gabriel gave Him a wry smile. If His other children had only chosen humanity over their desire to bring about the End, they might have gotten what they had wanted all along. But when forced to choose, He had of course chosen humanity over his eldest children. Even if Gabriel wanted to argue, who was he to condemn God? “Can you fix it?”

 

Chuck shook His head. “No. This is on them. They have made their choice, and I have made mine.”

 

“They honestly think this is what you want, though. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

“Do you  _ know  _ how many people do abominable things in what they think is My name? What makes you think this is any different?”

 

The archangel sighed. “They’re supposed to have free will, aren’t they? And you never told them, so then you left when they couldn’t figure it out for themselves. Doesn’t that make you the hypocrite?”

 

“You’re treading on thin ice, Gabriel.”

 

Gabriel would have liked nothing more than to say everything he really wanted to say, but it wouldn’t do to test the deity that had put his closest brother in isolation for aeons. “Do you know how this ends?” He thought he could see it, but he couldn’t see the future, wasn’t sure how it would really end.

 

“How do you think it ends?” Chuck turned his head, and Gabriel couldn’t help but follow it. Sitting on the desk next to the computer, there was a paperback book. With his angelic sight, Gabriel could see that the title read, “Swan Song,” and he  _ knew. _

 

“Michael, Lucifer, and Sam in the cage,” he all but snarled, and he knew, just  _ knew,  _ that he couldn’t let it happen that way.  _ They had free will for a reason, damnit!  _ “No. No. There’s no such thing as fate, right? Not if free-will is real.”

 

“It hasn’t happened yet,” Chuck agreed. “But it has happened in every single alternate universe, in one way or another. I will not help you, nor will I hinder you.”

 

_ What terrible moral support.  _ How was he supposed to convince the  _ entire  _ host, including Lucifer and Michael, to jump off the game board?  _ He still was not willing to kill his siblings, but he would also not see a human in the cage. _

 

With that, Gabriel left. If he stayed he would only be tempted to rant and rage at a father who had long forgotten his firstborn. This was the closest thing he would get to useful help, and he had learned very little.

 

The last book was already written. How much time did that give him? He was already familiar with how the door could be closed, but that was how it was foretold. Sam would say yes, overpower Lucifer, and Michael would follow them into the cage. But that couldn't be the only answer. Sam would be lost.

 

That meant he had to do something else. Anything else.

 

If he could just convince his siblings not to destroy humanity... Starting with Lucifer.

* * *

**Part 3: Castiel**

By the time Castiel flew in and smote the witch, both Sam and Dean were blubbering messes, though Dean was still silent and paralyzed.

 

Sam climbed to his feet, unsteady as a foal. He was still crying, but he wiped his eyes, still expecting no sympathy from the celestial being. “Are you going to save Dean?” he whispered.

 

Castiel tilted his head, “I do not understand…”

 

Killing the witch had broken her spell, freeing Dean of both the paralysis and the silence. He bolted upright, shouting, “I'm not dead, Sammy!” as he tackled his behemoth of a baby brother who was more than capable of bearing his weight.

 

But not, perhaps, when shocked into finding out the person he loved most was not in fact dead. Sam was knocked to the floor as Dean decided that mimicking an octopus was a good idea.

 

“I love you, Sam,” Dean whispered as Sam was falling over. “And I am so, so sorry that I made you doubt that.”

 

Sam spilled more tears, this time in relief rather than frustration and grief. Dean didn’t move from his position perched on top of Sam, merely holding his brother in an attempt to convey how he really felt where words had always failed. There would be words later, but not while Castiel was still wondering what had happened inside the empty warehouse that was no longer shrouded in darkness.

 

“Was one of my siblings here?” Castiel asked. There was a faint scent of sugar and electricity that he couldn’t place and a hex bag on the floor, clearly warped as though someone had damaged it in anger. Who else had been here?

 

“I didn’t see any dicks with wings,” Dean answered turned to look at him and elbowing Sam in the ribs with the same movement. “Sammy?”

 

“No,” Sam grunted.

 

“We need to leave this place.” Cas walked towards the Winchester and put a hand on each of them. Seconds later, they were back in their hotel room, Sam sitting on one bed and Dean on the other.

 

“If you hurt my car--” Dean started.

 

“Your car is in the parking lot, not a scratch,” Cas answered, well used to that line. “What happened in the warehouse to cause you both extreme mental duress?”

 

“Nothing!” Dean’s answer was instinctual, as not a word Sam had said had been for anyone but him and it was not the business of nosy angels, but the hurt expression Sam sent him anyway made him reconsider that response. “Nothing that concerns you, Cas. Sam thought I had died and said some things I really needed to hear. It was, is, important for us.” He thought about what Sam had said, and then about the voicemail Sam had mentioned. “Cas, when Zachariah locked me in that weird room right before Sam killed Lilith last year, I called Sam after banishing him. Was that call actually made?”

 

The angel tilted his head. “You were inside Zachariah’s pocket dimension. You would not have been able to make any call he did not want you to make.”

 

Sam frowned in confusion and disbelief. “You didn’t call me a vampire?” he guessed.

 

“No, I didn’t call you a vampire. I apologized for more or less repeating Dad’s words when I told you not to come back. Why would you think I called you a vampire?”

 

Sam pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and after putting it on speakerphone, dialed a number. “You have one saved voicemail. Press 1 to hit play.” Sam pressed the button.

 

Dean’s voice was heard over the speaker of the phone, and both Winchesters winced at how it really did sound like Dean. “Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam -- a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back.”

 

They both stared at the phone in shock, even as the robotic voiced continued, “Press 1 to save voicemail.”

 

Sam closed the phone without pressing any buttons. He could see that it wasn’t actually what Dean believed, and quite possibly that he had never said it to begin with. There was no reason to use it to torture himself further.

 

“I would never have said those things,” Dean said. “Never. I don’t care what Dad said, there’s no way I would ever, could ever, kill you. Why would the angels think such a horrid thing?”

 

There was no answer, until surprisingly enough, Cas spoke. “I think I might know. And we may need to reconsider our course of action staving off the apocalypse.”

* * *

**Part 4: Sam**

A few hours later, after Cas and Dean had told Sam about their conversation with Raphael, Dean had told them about his conversation with Michael, and Sam told them about  _ all _ of his conversations with Lucifer, the two humans and the angel stood in front of a large white piece of paper they had pinned to the wall.

 

“What is the purpose of this again?” Dean asked.

 

“We need to understand why the archangels want the apocalypse, or at least, why Gabriel is the only one with anything to say against it, even if he won’t pick a side,” Sam reminded him gently. “The best way to do that is to start with the hierarchy. The lower tiers of angels had no idea what was going on last year, which suggests that the apocalypse was a machination of someone or a group of higher-ups. Plus, wouldn’t it be nice if we could get an archangel on our side?”

 

Dean shrugged. “We’d have Gabriel if he wasn’t such a coward.” He rolled his eyes when Sam gave him bitch face #9. “Okay, then. I assume Michael goes at the top, since he’s the general?”

 

Castiel wrote the name Michael on the right hand side of the paper, at the top. “General is not an exact translation, but it is the most accurate English word for Michael’s position.” General was the word Castiel wrote to the left of Michael.

 

“Michael told me that he would kill Lucifer because it was the right and just thing to do,” Dean reiterated. “But he also claimed that he didn’t want to kill Lucifer any more than I would want to kill you, Sam. And yet, on more than one occasion, I have chosen not to kill you where others might have hunted you.” Despite knowing it was true, hearing it spoke aloud still brought a pained expression to Sam’s face. “I know,” Dean added. “I know you were not entirely at fault for any of it. Especially not Yellow Eyes’ part in the demon blood.  _ I’m just saying.  _ Look at Gordon. _ ” _

 

“As it is in Heaven, so must it be on Earth,” Sam said, quoting Gabriel’s lines when he’d been in their holy fire trap. “Can Michael be convinced to not kill Lucifer and is not killing Lucifer actually the solution?”

 

“Very little has been heard from Michael for the last few hundred years. Before he brought us back to the present time, we had all believed Michael to be deep in revelation, as he had not been seen nor heard from.”

 

“Michael didn’t show himself when I tried to say yes, nor when Adam said yes. And yet he had a one on one chat with me when he brought us back to the present. Is that at all suspicious?”

 

“Let’s come back to Michael,” Sam suggested. “Lucifer next?” He didn’t wait for Dean or Cas to agree or disagree, instead continuing on with, “He claimed that he idolized his older brother once. I assume that’s Michael?” Castiel nodded, even as he wrote Lucifer on the paper underneath Michael’s name. “He said Michael called him a freak and a monster. He also once promised to never lie to me, but I have to say that he definitely phrased his speech in a way that I could relate to. It reminds me of Stanford.”

 

“I am not familiar with the architecture of the Cage, but I do not believe it would have been a pleasant way to spend as many aeons as Lucifer has. The Cage was in limbo, time passes much faster there than even in Hell.”

 

“If four months was forty years, how many centuries must he have spent in the Cage?” 

 

“Hundreds of thousands of centuries,” Castiel answered. “At the minimum.”

 

Both of the Winchesters winced. “For what?” Sam asked. “Corrupting humanity?”

 

“Was it for having free will? For giving it to humans?” Dean inquired, arching an eyebrow towards his brother and the angel.

 

Castiel tilted his head. “I don't know. The war was winding down and then Lucifer simply vanished. I believe Father also left about that time.”

 

“Who actually put him into the cage? Michael or God?” Dean wondered, as he watched Castiel pace from side to side.

 

“I do not know. I do not think anyone knows, except Michael and Father.” The angel replied, stopping and staring outside the window.

 

“Wait,” Sam interjected. “Whatever happened, Michael didn't kill Lucifer. Sometimes words spoken can't be taken at face value. “I know angels speak every language ever, but how much is lost in translation? Lucifer was in the Cage for ages upon ages, do you also automatically understand/ convey yourselves using colloquialisms? Enochian doesn’t have a lot of words in the entirety of the language, right? How do we know they picked the most accurate translations?”

 

“I’m not sure I understand your question, Sam,” Castiel affirmed, turning to regard the hunter.

 

“You breed with the mouth of a goat,” Dean said. “You said it was funnier in Enochian. Is that because of the Enochian colloquialisms, or because the exact translation was wrong?”

 

“Is it idiom? Cultural meaning of a phrase can be different from the literal meaning of the words. Like- ‘who let the cat out of the bag?’ We know as a culture that it’s referring to a secret being told, but that meaning cannot be derived by looking up each individual word in the dictionary,” Sam explained.

 

“You’re asking if I picked the best translation when I explained the false exorcism, and you’re asking if my siblings might have made similar mistakes in the wording of their speeches.”

 

“Not Gabriel, necessarily, but Michael and Lucifer for sure,” Sam replied.

 

“They would not know human idiom, that is true. Lucifer’s hatred of humanity would make him even less inclined to use it. But that would also use the assumption that he still feels that way.”

 

“Lucifer is likely angry and bitter,” Sam said. “Isolation from everyone he’s ever known or cared about would likely cause those feelings to get stronger. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have positive emotions, it’ll just be harder to appeal to them. Unless…. What about forgiveness? I know it’s cheesy, but humans often portray your father as the God of forgiveness. Any chance of redemption for Lucifer?”

 

Castiel sighed. “I do not say this lightly, but just as angels are not so benevolent as humans would depict them, neither is our Father.”

 

“But He’s also gone, right? Can Michael forgive Lucifer and move forward without Lucifer destroying humanity? Perhaps Lucifer has only been exposed to the worst of humanity.”

 

“Was his concern that humans would destroy the planet?” Sam asked. “Humans came last, right? So who would have created the Earth and its creations?”

 

“The archangels did most of the creating when it came to Earth and not only the life forms, but also the aesthetic of the planet itself.”

 

“Platypus?” Sam asked randomly.

 

“Australia was a group effort between all the archangels.”

 

“Maybe we should come back to Lucifer,” Dean suggested. “His words are not the only set we should analyze for meaning and intent.”

 

Castiel wrote the name Raphael on the paper. To the left, in the column he’d written Commander next to Michael, he wrote, Healer.

 

“He sure didn’t seem inclined to heal when he smote you,” Dean grumbled.

 

“From what you said of your conversation with Raphael, he sounds disgruntled. Abandoned younger sibling. Exhausted and ready for the world to end. Although that sounds like an issue of mental state. Nihilistic, perhaps? I’m concerned that he might try to end the world to get his paradise. Possibly suicidal? I don’t know. Someone with nothing left to lose,” Sam commented as he twirled the pen on his fingers.

 

“I would hazard against drawing such a conclusion,” Castiel suggested.

 

“Wait, though. Gabriel shared a similar view concerning being ready for the world to end. What did he say, ‘Let’s light this candle’?” Dean tried to remember exactly what the archangel had said. “Except he was hiding facades behind facades.”   
  
“That still doesn’t explain why Raphael believed Lucifer to have brought Cas back,” Sam considered. “Unless…. Did a single word Raphael say condemn Lucifer?”

 

“What?” Dean asked. “His tone--”

 

“Dean!” Sam’s volume increased as Dean’s words reminded him of things they had not originally considered. “Angels don’t inflect! Culturally, they do not follow human inflection of the voice, let alone specifically American inflections. Ignoring how he sounded, did he specifically say anything condemning Lucifer?”

 

“He warned me against blasphemy. His words were that God is dead, and then talked about the 20th and 21st centuries as though they could be used to prove it. And then he suggested that Lucifer must have raised me from the dead. That he would be looking for rebellious angels to join his side.” Castiel frowned as he considered the ramifications of Sam’s conclusion. “You can only look at what was said.  The reverse is true for angels. We know every language humans have ever used, but we do not learn their nonverbal communication techniques.”

 

“I know that’s unlikely, but can we explore this hypothetical? What does Raphael gain from convincing us that Lucifer raised Cas?” Sam posed the question with genuine curiosity, and hoped that Dean wouldn’t shoot him down.

 

Instead of shooting Sam’s idea down, because that was not the way to handle this situation, Dean decided to go for Sam’s hypothetical with uncharacteristic nonchalance. “That would suggest he’s trying to push Cas to Lucifer’s side. It would paint him in a sympathetic light under the condition that Raphael knows we want Cas alive.”

 

“And archangels don’t have that kind of power?” Sam asked for clarification.

 

“They do not.”

 

“And Raphael would know that, wouldn’t he? So either he’s so far into this mindset of believing your Father to be dead that he can’t possibly believe something contrary to that belief, or his intention was something entirely different,” Sam said. “And yet, does any of that even fall under his purview as Healer?”

 

“Raphael has been cold and distant since the first war. It has been a very long time since anyone in heaven exhibited the warmth you attribute to my kind,” Cas answered.

 

Sam considered the paper on the wall. “What is the Enochian word that translates as Paradise?”

 

Castiel spoke the word. He used his quiet human voice so that he would not accidentally harm the humans. “What are you thinking?”

 

“What else could that word mean? Would the word that translates as the end, or end times, be a similar form to that word? What about the word for bliss?” Sam considered. “Cataclysm, upheaval, ruin.” His eyes widened. “Death--?”

 

“Paradise isn’t death, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed.

 

Castiel’s head titled as he stared at Sam. “The Enochian word for all of those is the same, but you missed one. Change. It also means forest, but I’m not going to explain that one.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow at the mention that the Enochian word for death was the same as the word for forest, but didn’t question it. “Raphael said they were looking for paradise. That they were tired, and ready for it to be over. And Gabriel used that line too, _ ‘I just want it to be over!’  _ Michael and Lucifer both made it sound like the conflict is inevitable, but what if it’s not?”

 

“How would we stop it?” Castiel asked.

 

“What if all roads only lead to Rome only because Rome is the only word that can represent a destination? Wiping out humanity would not be paradise because it would be ruin and destruction. What if what they really need is change? To have free will to stray from the chosen path? Gabriel did it, Lucifer did it, what would it take to get Michael and Raphael to change course and for Lucifer to compromise back to the middle somewhere?”

 

The angel stared at the younger hunter. “You’re going to need a miracle, Sam.”

 

“No,” Dean replied. “We don’t need a miracle. We need to convince Gabriel to help us. He might have some idea how to convince his brothers that this doesn’t have to end with blood spilt. Let’s pack up and go.”

 

“Where?” Sam asked.

 

“Who knows where.” Dean shrugged as he started packing.

 

They ended up at the Elysian Fields Hotel in Muncie Indiana due to a detour. It was fate.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tears of Paradise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642649) by [Hyrulehearts1123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyrulehearts1123/pseuds/Hyrulehearts1123)




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